Schmetterling
by emmadotlouise
Summary: And it was then, Sarralyn Salmalin decided, when she was told she was to be the next up on Executioner’s Hill, that it was time for her to flee Tortall. The butterfly would fly once again with unbroken wings.
1. go

**schmetterling**

_emclar_

-

Little change of the heart,  
little light in the dark  
little hope that you just might find  
your way up outta here  
cause you've been hiding for days,  
wasted and wasting away  
but I've got a little hope  
that today you'll face your fears  
yeah I know it's not easy,  
I know that it's hard  
follow the lights to the city

**boys like girls – **_go_

-

A change of heart means nothing to the magistrate court when you've committed the crime and they're bent on making you do the time for it. It's only fair, everyone has to do it, and even when you're the innocent party in the crime – if they have evidence that can place you there and as an accomplice – they will do so, regardless of whatever pleading is entered by your parents. When Sarralyn Salmalin watched her best friend – _former_ best friend – being charged with high treason against the crown, she felt her heart break.

Coming to the realisation that the boy had befriended her just to get close to her other friends – the royal children – was like a stab in the heart that was being twisted over and over. And it was because of this that Sarralyn adopted the mask that she had been wearing for the last two years. Her parents, her friends, had tried to knock her out of the spell she had been in; tried to make her smile, laugh, giggle without success. Sarralyn sat in the seat facing the window in her chambers in the palace, wind blowing through her hair, fringe flying into her place as she watched the hustle and bustle of the daily commotion that was a part of Corus. Tortall was where she had grown up, and Tortall was the place that had also taken away her meaning for life, her reasons for feeling emotion.

Nowadays she was just an empty shell, hiding behind a mask of blankness, polite in company, but always detached.

Thinking of him – _"I love you, Sar, you and only you"_ – saddened her. She began to view the world in shades of blue, shades of grey, monochromatic colours.

"_If you loved me, then you wouldn't have used me,_" she had responded back to him. _"So why did you do it?"_

"_I had to."_

Had to... that had been his reasoning for everything. Had to, like Kyprioth or the Graveyard Hag had made a deal with him. He had looked her in the eyes, held her hands, and told her that he loved her. He had been the one to make her feel love, true love, real love, for the very first time. He was also the one to take it away.

She blamed him.

She blamed him for it all.

And then she blamed herself for falling for him.

So when the guards turned up to her door to escort her to the magistrate's court for her trial, hiding her tears as she had done so often before, she went with them.

The Lord Magistrate pushed his glasses further up his nose while surveying the scroll in front of him. He then turned his gaze to the woman standing in front of him and was startled by how dead she looked. In the time since her friend's trial and execution, Sarralyn's skin had paled and she had become wan; a shadow of her former self. She stood there, bound in the chains that prevented her from shapeshifting – chains that had been developed by the crown, together with help from the court mages and Sarralyn's own mother.

From somewhere in the audience at Sarralyn's trial, there was a howling cry. "How can you do this to us? Why did you do it?"

"That will be enough, ma'am." The Lord Magistrate turned his attention back to Sarralyn. "Sarralyn Salmalin of Corus, do you understand the charges that have been laid against you?"

Her voice was hoarse, "No."

The Lord Magistrate sat up taller in his chair and read from the scroll in front of him. "You, Sarralyn Salmalin, are being accused of being an accomplice in a plot to kill the royal children. You posed as a friend to the children in an attempt to get close to them. Your friend, as he was being questioned, revealed your part in the plan and so here we stand. Do you now understand the charges that have been laid against you?"

Her voice remained hoarse as she answered, "Yes."

"How do you plead?"

"Not guilty." She bowed her head in an attempt to hide the tears that were starting to trickle down her face.

"Take her away." The Lord Magistrate waved her hand at Sarralyn. "Put her back into her chambers and keep those chains on her."

The guard standing next to her nodded at the magistrate and moved to push her roughly towards the door behind them, but when his hands touched her, he was gentle. As they were walking down the hallway towards her chambers, he whispered to her, "I'm sorry I have to do this, Sarra."

She winced at the sound of someone using her childhood name and mumbled back, coherently to him but no one else, "It's okay, I know you're doing what you have to." She half-turned back towards him and smiled a small smile. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine." _I hope_. Sarralyn had long accepted that she wasn't going to get out of this any way. Her friend wanted her to come down with him, despite the fact that she hadn't done anything. He had already lost everything that had been dear to him when he had left this world and, now, she was headed the same way.

Her friends didn't trust her anymore.

The royal family wasn't going to save her.

There was nothing her parents could do, despite their best efforts to try. Sarralyn's fate lay in the hands of the law.

And it was then, she decided, when she was told she was to be the next up on Executioner's Hill, that it was time for her to flee Tortall.

The butterfly would fly once again with unbroken wings.

-

* * *

**AN:** This is my first attempt at fanfiction in a long, long, looooong time. I've decided to try telling Sarralyn's story - and a very different story to those usually told about her. We'll start off in Tortall and then you'll see how it goes. :) I'm a bit rusty on the whole fanfic writing thing, but we'll see how I get back into it, haha.

Thank you so much for reading.

-emclar


	2. my december

**schmetterling**

_emclar_

-

and i give it all away  
just to have somewhere to go to  
give it all away  
to have someone to come home to

this is my december  
these are my snow covered dreams  
this is me pretending  
this is all i need

**linkin park – **_my december_

-

There had been a particularly vicious blizzard on the day it had all begun. It was why Sarralyn withdrew further into herself when it snowed. Where others around her were making snow angels and snowmen, she would sit in the corner and watch them play. Frosted tears lay on her eyelashes, a bitter reminder of her own body's betrayal. She didn't want to cry. She hated crying. And she hated the fact that _he_ was making her cry.

Midwinter was supposed to be a time of celebration, a time of love and gift giving. Sarralyn's brother, Rikash, was serenading his childhood sweetheart – a pretty girl who was the daughter of one of his former nursemaids. They had grown up together in the cot, along with Sarralyn, and, as they had grown older, Rikash had fallen head over heels for her. Rikash had always had a way with love, both finding it for himself and others. It had been Rikash who had introduced her to _him_, who had gone up to _him_ at the previous year's Midwinter ball, when she'd seen _him_ and her curiosity had been piqued. Sarralyn was definitely not the most shy of individuals; it was just proper for the man to make the first move. And she'd wanted his attention. _Needed_ his attention.

When she'd needed him the most, he'd always been there. He wasn't here now though, and he was the source of her pain.

His name had been Liam. He had told her that he had been named for the Shang Dragon and she'd believed him. His eyes had been so green, so blue, depending on his moods... and when she had been with him, they'd always been the clearest and brightest shade of green that she'd ever seen. Green like a spring leaf, like the lily-pads in a pond... so green that she'd lost herself in them whenever she had gazed at him. He'd always been the one to break eye contact with a small smile and a look off to the side. As if she was too intense.

It wasn't because of her being too intense, it was the fact that he was hiding behind a mask, a facade; much like she was doing now.

He'd always been the one to hold her hand and walk her through her darkest days. In the times where she was adjusting to the idea that her magic would develop much along the path of her mother's, he'd been there. When she'd transformed for the first time since she'd been a baby, he'd been there. When she'd had her first kiss... and transformed because of the emotion flooding through her from head to toe... he'd been there. He hadn't laughed at her either – just smiled that little smile she'd known had been just for her. He'd never smiled it for anyone else.

Her brother had watched from the outside, knowing that his older sister was retreating further and further into herself, but not knowing what to do about it. He'd tried to get her to come outside with him one day to make angels in the snow, knowing that had used to make her giggle and smile. Snow had been something she'd shared with _him_ though; snow and everything else.

He watched her sit on the brick fence surrounding the pond, her white coat almost blending perfectly into the snow. If he hadn't known better, he could've mistaken her for an ice maiden, or even an unusually shaped snowman. The children who came to their house, usually students of their father's, liked to play in the backyard. The Salmalíns were well-known for their hospitality. Their mother, Veralidaine, was away for a lot of the time on errands and duties for the king, and to keep the realm's animals and immortals in check. At least once a year she had to visit every immortal's nest. Today she was out visiting the griffins near Pirate's Swoop. She'd be home with watering eyes by sundown.

"This used to be her favourite time of the year," Rikash whispered to himself, "but now she sits there naught but a hollow shell of herself."

"Practicing your role as poet laureate, my dear?" came from behind him as a familiar presence brushed her lips down the side of his neck and snaked her arms around his waist.

"But of course." He wrapped his free arm around her shoulder and hugged her into him. "I must paint pictures with my words, dearest, just as you must with your paintbrush." He kissed the top of her head. "My lovely Arya, what are we going to do about my sister?"

Arya wrinkled her nose. "She's been like that for how long?"

"Six months."

"He's been gone for six months?"

"The anniversary of his disappearance is today – Midwinter – and this is the day she finds the hardest. He promised that he would take her hand today and he made that promise the day before he disappeared."

Arya bit her lip. "Any girl in love with a man will take a promise like that and will hold it close to her heart. If it's broken, especially, it's like having your heart broken into two pieces and stitched together again – a temporary fix, not a permanent one. She could spend her whole life in love with him and never heal."

"And the stitches could break and ruin what's left even more?"

"Yes."

"We can only hope that doesn't happen." Rikash rested his head on Arya's. "If it's like that, I don't know if I'll even be able to help her through it."

"You should go talk to her."

"I've tried that already. Every time I try to talk to her, she sits there and doesn't respond to me."

"Then try harder."

"You always know best."

"It's part of what you love about me."

"True, but you know what I love more about you?"

"What?"

"_This_," and he tickled her sides, making her squeal and scream.

-

"And I-I tricked her, yessir I did. I made her give me money for my d-d-d-d-dri-in-inks." A dishevelled homeless man from the Lower City streets of Corus had stumbled into the Dancing Dove and was telling his life's story to the bar man, who was feigning interest in an attempt to keep the man paying whatever money he had over the counter so the barman and his patron could continue to keep a roof over their and their family's heads. The homeless man slammed his glass on the counter and let out a satisfied burp. "'nother one. Fill 'er up."

The barman obliged and the homeless man's jug was filled again to the brim. "Don't you think you've had enough there?"

"You can never have too much of what makes you happy," the homeless man replied, lowering his cap further over his eyes in a sort of mock salute to the bartender. "Thank the old Trickster Kyprioth for his luck and mine."

"You might want to be careful, voicing his name. He doesn't like for it to be used in vain."

"Ah, the old fool takes pleasure in helping his subjects."

Leagues away, Kyprioth grinned as he overheard the conversation between the bartender and the homeless man.

-

Even further away still, Daine was speaking to her mother. At Midwinter, the veil between the two realms was thin, so it allowed Daine and her mother, Sarra, to talk to each other face-to-face.

"I'm worried about her, Ma." Daine's voice was soft, tiredness showing in every line of her face; the dimples at the corners of her mouth were gone as her smile, no longer there, refused to show itself. "She hasn't been herself since that boy disappeared and what with the uproar around the palace over the royal children, it's almost like she's trying to hide away from the rest of the world. You know that they suspect him? And I think she feels betrayed... I mean, of course she feels betrayed, if Numair had done that to me... even before I had fallen for him, I don't know if I could've spoken to him again."

The minor goddess, Sarra, took her daughter in her arms and hugged her, comforting warmth, not that of magic, flowing from mother to child. Reassurance, peace, calm; all of these were a naturally occurring aura that Sarra radiated and something she was trying to get her daughter to feel. However, she wasn't having much luck as Daine remained worried and wan. "Sarralyn needs time to recover; all you can do right now is just be there for her."

Daine nestled in closer to her mother. "But what if I can't do anything to help her?"

"You'll find a way, Daine. You'll find a way."

-

"What a miserable looking girl," Kyprioth voiced, peeking through the clouds above Tortall in that all-seeing way of his. "She looks like she needs an injection of fun in her life." He rubbed his forefinger and thumb thoughtfully over his chin. "And I feel like having some fun too..."

Below, Sarralyn felt a cold wind sweep past her and wrapped her coat tighter around herself. Kyprioth, cloaked in his magic to make himself invisible to her, whispered in her ear, "I'm going to have fun with you, my sweet."

-

* * *

**AN:** More fun coming up. The plot will develop further and you'll meet and find out who the dude is. Thanks for reading!

~emclar


	3. it's not easy

**schmetterling**

_emclar_

_

* * *

_

two

_

* * *

_

Arya pursed her lips, seeing her partner laying spread-eagle on the couch, limbs akimbo and a content expression on his face. She was trying her utmost not to smile, and winning the war for now, but she knew that she would lose the battle any moment.

Rikash made a snorting noise as he rolled over and Arya felt her smile slip into existence. "Oh, you..." she murmured, arranging herself delicately next to him. Arya was not a strong woman – not in the matters of the realm, but she was strong in matters of the heart and that was why Rikash consulted her when he felt like he would stumble... especially with his sister.

The world around them had been uprooted as soon as Sarralyn had left the court; her sentencing sealed her fate, as well as those around her. Everywhere they walked, there were whispers: _"It's them." "Watch out, they might get you too." "Don't look at them, it will just bring a curse upon you."_ And it was these whispers that were straining Rikash and Arya's relationship. As much as she didn't want to admit it, the rumours, the stories, they were getting to her and _frustrating_ her beyond all belief. She didn't like being looked upon as bad luck, or being cursed. She knew it was for the superstitious to banter about, and she didn't count herself as a superstitious type, but when her formerly best friends refused to talk to her because she was associated with _the traitor_, even remotely, she wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

The court had turned toxic towards her; all invitations that she used to get to parties, to come to people's houses, to attend royal gatherings, were being withdrawn. She had _nothing_, save for mulling over the despairs of her own life since Sarralyn had _ruined_ it, to keep her busy anymore.

She watched her partner's sleeping form, the smile fading from her face as she remembered the same blood flowed through his veins as the traitor's; and was now flowing through hers... she'd been experiencing pain and vomiting periodically, so she'd been to see the healer – someone outside the city, riding for an entire day to escape to somewhere to find someone who wouldn't know her, wouldn't know the faces of those affected by the scandal – who had informed her that she was three weeks pregnant. She had felt his magic coursing through her, a gentle green light radiating from the cool hands he'd placed on her stomach. As soon as she'd heard those three words – "You're pregnant" – her body had become as cold as the healer's hands and her face as white as the very snow outside. She'd howled her anguish; curling her legs against herself, shaking violently, trying desperately to dismiss the realisation that she was going to be thrown deeper into, and forever associated with, the scandal of Sarralyn.

Damn him.

_Damn her_.

And damn him again for fooling her into thinking the pregnancy charm had been foolproof.

He'd assured her that there would be no repercussions for that _one_ night. She'd agreed to it after fighting with Rikash; agreed to spend one night with a man who belonged to her partner's sister. _No,_ he'd said, _not belonged_... and she'd believed him, but she'd also known that Sarralyn had _loved_ Liam, but she'd also known that he had been bad for her. Arya had recognised something in Liam that she had recognised within herself: he was not one to shy away from something that might make him feel better, feel just a little bit more whole, even if it was just for one night. And a night of bliss it had been for her – but now she was far from blissful, with a bastard baby in her belly and the father hanging on Executioner's Hill.

-

Daine could feel the wind flowing through her feathers and she rejoiced in it; this was true, true freedom, the kind that you revelled in because there was nothing quite like it. She wished she could live up here in the sky with the birds, going wherever she wanted, belonging to a flock who looked out for each other, nesting in trees, seeing different places every day... every minute was precious to them because they didn't have as many of them as humans did... and they saw the world as a whole, as a big picture.

Her sparrow friends sang to her, bringing news from Corus; one particular piece of news shocked her through to the core and her wings stopped flapping, causing her to fall from the sky. Her sparrow friends flew under her and acted as a cushion, flapping their own wings, heads interlocked so she could be lowered down gently instead of crashing through metres of trees to fall to the ground in a broken mess of feathers and wings. They chirped worriedly, gently butting their heads against hers as she laid stunned, wings splayed and head resting against a pillow of leaves that her squirrel friends had already brought for her. They chattered, concern in every tone of their voice.

It took Daine a couple of minutes to process the news, dread flooding through every inch of her body and leaking out of her pores. She transformed from a sparrow into a human, scattering the squirrels and sparrows as she took up space they had been occupying previously. Suddenly lethargic, she inched her weary body up, remorse in every line of her face. "I'm so sorry, my friends," she mumbled, stumbling over each syllable, like a child sounding out their first words. Shock had made her slow to comprehend anything. This was her _baby_ that they were talking about; that had been sentenced to Executioner's Hill. It felt like a part of her was being ripped out of her, like her heart was being torn, shredded, into two beating halves and stitched back together with the most fragile of thread.

They chirped and chattered back at her, reassuring her that it was absolutely fine; they understood that she was worried and they weren't bothered by it at all. If one of their nestlings or babies had been in trouble and they hadn't expected it, they would be shocked and panicking too.

Daine smiled a little. It was times like this that she loved the People more so than she did the rest of humanity. She'd been raised among them, by Brokefang and his pack after she'd gone wild and started walking on four legs instead of two. Her and Cloud; it had been the two of them until the wolves had come along. She still felt a kinship to the People, bonds established through her wild magic and maintained by constant exposure to them. The People calmed her when she was in a state of distress or anger.

She felt distressed, knowing that her baby would be in trouble, not able to defend or think for herself after Liam betrayed her to the Crown... despite the fact that she had done _nothing_. She had been a friend, she had been _Sarralyn_: warm, loving, friendly, big-hearted... all that Daine would want in a daughter, but she had also had a wild streak, one that had caused her to get mixed up with the wrong people. She hadn't listened to Daine, no matter how much Daine had tried to tell her that the people she was hanging around with would only break her heart in the end, would betray her... she'd felt uneasy around them, like something was shifty; but Sarralyn had viewed the world through rose-coloured spectacles, her world, and now she was paying the price for it.

And it was a dear, dear price.

It had cost her her life. The only life she'd ever known had been ripped away from her and boxed into memories of has-beens. Her future remained what-ifs.

Daine looked around her. As far as she knew, she was still many miles away from Corus. "How am I to get home?" she murmured. "Sarralyn needs me, but I can't make it to Corus in the next couple of hours; that spell took most of my energy away."

Rest your head, the People said to her. We will wake you when the sun is beginning to set and the night creatures come out and we go to sleep.

"Bless you," Daine replied, curling up into a ball and resting her head on the pillow of leaves the squirrels had brought her. The rest of the people brought leaves and other things that would form a pillow and blanket, dropping them over Daine in an attempt to make her more comfortable.

Her world was dark as soon as she closed her eyes.

-

Sarralyn was wrapped tightly in her sheets, like a caterpillar in its chrysalis. She was trying to block out the world, pretending that when she got out from beneath the covers, from everything that was shielding her from the rest of reality, everything would be okay. Everything would be back to normal. She could go out into the public and not have to worry about what people thought, if she was going to be apprehended by the guards and forcibly escorted back to her quarters, thrown into a dungeon, or, even worse, dragged to Executioner's Hill prematurely.

She rolled over on her bed and fell onto the floor in the same motion, the cold, hard, stone floor. Against her ankle, she could feel dull metal that she knew would shrink or expand with her if she tried to shapeshift. They had left the chains on, as the magistrate had ordered, so that she couldn't escape. They were treating her like a hardened criminal, which, she guessed, she was in their eyes. The chain had caught on the mattress, where there was a slight ridge of padding. One of the links was slightly out of shape, but for one link that was weak, there were twenty other strong ones holding it together. The court mages had been smart when they'd forged these chains; they'd re-enforced them _everywhere._

Sarralyn forced her body to sit up, making it somewhat awkward for herself as she toppled to the side, but, with a will and using effort, she managed to scrape herself to the top of her bed so she could unhook herself. As she inched herself to the top of the bed, a man sitting cross-legged on her bed revealed himself. She almost shrieked with shock and managed to clap her hand over her mouth in time to stifle it – there were still guards in her residence, posted outside her personal chambers and mage alarms around the grounds so that she didn't escape, and if she tried to, an alert would stick to her if she passed through the spells. She'd heard the guards discussing it one night when they'd thought she was asleep.

"Who... are you?" she stage-whispered so that her voice wouldn't carry out of her room.

The man cackled merrily and stroked his salt and pepper – with more salt than pepper, of course – beard with his long fingers. Filled with many rings of varying metals and gems, they made a clinking sound every time his fingers touched the gaudy necklaces he was wearing. Sarralyn was baffled; she'd never seen a man who would choose to wear such hideous clothing before; he was definitely not of Tortall, where the court had chosen to make complementary pastel colours the new trend.

"Who I am is of no matter to you, my sweet," he replied. Three balls of sparkling light that crackled like fireworks formed in each hand and he began to juggle them while giggling to himself. "What does matter, though, is what I wish you to do for me. You might find this fun. You might not. I personally think you would find it to be very fun."

"'Fun' got me here." Sarralyn gestured at the room they were in, at the heavily barred door and at the chains that swamped her ankles and wrists and surrounded her middle. "I can barely get changed, let alone have 'fun'."

The man continued to juggle his sparks, each spark growing in size as they touched his hands. After five rounds, they were as big as tennis balls. After ten rounds, they were as big as softballs. "This is a different kind of fun." He grinned wickedly. "This is the kind of fun that would save your pretty little face from being up on Executioner's Hill." He stood the sparks on top of each other, resting on the tip of his index finger. "And, who knows, you might even be able to make a double whammy of it and prove your innocence at the same time."

Sarralyn cocked her head. She wasn't sure if she believed him. "What's in this for you?"

"Oh, just a kick at fooling the high-ups in Tortall again. Believe it or not, but I take great satisfaction in tormenting people in places of authority and that magistrate that sentenced you is a cranky old Stormwing. I'd love to one-up him." The man bounced the balls of light on his finger. "He looks like he'd be fun when he's angry. I _love_ it when people are angry."

Sarralyn considered it for a moment. She would hate to leave her family behind, but at the same time... if there was a way that she could prove her innocence so that she could get her old life back, she was willing to give it a chance. She wanted her family to be proud of her, for the rest of her family – Rikash, Arya – to look at her like she wasn't some kind of monster, like she wasn't the black stain on the family tree, that she _was_ worthy of bearing the Salmalin name.

She steeled herself, sitting upright and looking the man squarely in the eyes before replying, "I'll do it."

* * *

**AN: **Please, please don't kill me. I know this has been a long time coming, but I sat down and wrote this in one sitting - and it was a lot of fun, to be honest. Thank you so, so much for reading; we'll be seeing more of Kyprioth and Sarralyn next chapter... it should be pretty focused on them. :)

You guys are awesome!

-emclar


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